


Sexual Tension in Stasis

by cereal



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cereal/pseuds/cereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The metaphor extends, the needle tripping ever closer to the end of the disc, and he'll need to go back to that other universe once it's played through. (Ten/TenToo/Rose, on a smutty romp in Pete's World.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sexual Tension in Stasis

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [time_and_chips 2012 Advent Calendar](http://time-and-chips.livejournal.com/tag/advent%20calendar%202012)! Thank you to [gallifreyburning](http://www.whofic.com/viewuser.php?uid=15728) and [winterinthetardis](http://www.whofic.com/viewuser.php?uid=14990) for reading this over, and assuring me I wasn't a million miles off-base.
> 
> * * *

The science of it is lost on her.

There's an explanation they both try, something about a record and a needle and how even played incorrectly, the instructions for the music are still on the vinyl. The TARDIS found the groove, they tell her. And some warped and backward symphony lands the Doctor -- the two-hearted one -- back in Pete's World.

The metaphor extends, the needle tripping ever closer to the end of the disc, and he'll need to go back to that other universe once it's played through.

It's that part that she understands -- this is temporary, and a mistake, and she should enjoy it while it lasts.

And she would, if only they'd let her.

The words explode from her Doctor almost as soon as they're seated in the living room. A babble, a tirade, and a thank you all wrapped up into something she's definitely heard before.

"Thought you'd stay as far from us as possible, if you ever made it back here," the half-human Doctor says. "All that blood and anger and revenge flying around, a Time Lord could get himself hurt."

There's more to this speech, she knows, and he's got his mouth open to give it, but a look passes between the two Doctors and instead the other speaks.

"Yes, I could," he says and he's looking right at Rose.

She thinks about her own speech, the things she's rehearsed, things she's said to this human him, misdirected and properly directed and she just -- lets it go.

"I don't want to do this," she says, and they both look at her, twin sets of wide eyes from either direction.

There's only the one place to sit in the room, a big sectional sofa, and they've all staked out a portion, everybody on their own cushion, everybody with their own turf. And it's not what she wants out of this night.

She doesn't know what, exactly, she _does_ want, only that it's not this tension and anger -- because she's not angry anymore, not really. Neither of them are. Too busy being happy for that.

Or, when there is anger now, it's so much more domestic. Fights about the laundry, and forgotten bills, which one of them brought that hacking flu into the flat first, why it isn't appropriate for him to sign Tony out of school for a field trip to the planetarium -- even if she meets them there, and they discover a star.

There'd been the old sort of anger for too long, shouting matches about making decisions for her, nights where he slept on this very sofa, cup after cup of tea and sympathy at her mum's, and she'd put it to rest.

They'd put it to rest.

"I've told the Doctor." She gestures to the end of the sofa, where the human one sits. "I've said everything I need to say. And you know what? It wasn't a surprise to him, any of it. So," this time she gestures to the Time Lord, "You just take a moment, you imagine what I'd say to you, and we move on."

He nods, and leaves his head bowed, staring at a corner of the coffee table for a few long moments before speaking again.

"What if there are things I need to say to you?"

There's a spike of heat in her chest, a burning sort of fury. How dare he do this again, a clock counting down and everything on his terms?

"I've said them," the human Doctor cuts in. "I've said them all." He glares at the Time Lord, a short, pointed thing, and then his eyes dart to Rose, softer now, and worried.

The other Doctor swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, as the corners of his mouth turn down.

Well, no, this isn't what she wants either.

"He has," she confirms, and then ducks her head to catch his eye, smiling just a little. "An apology wouldn't go unheard though."

The Doctor's lips twitch, a smile to match her own, "Well then, Rose Tyler -- I'm sorry."

"And do you know what you're apologizing for?"

From the other end of the couch, her Doctor lets out a short bark of laughter, cutting it off when she raises an eyebrow at him.

"I do," the two-hearted Doctor says. "I do know. And I'm sorry."

There now, that's a bit better.

" _So_ sorry?" She grins fully this time, teasing him as the tension in the air splinters and cracks.

" _So_ sorry," he says.

"Great, that's all settled then." Rose nods, stuffing the rest of it down -- the matter is closed, as much as it'll ever be. "What'll we do now? Pop 'round to my mum's for tea?"

A look of horror spills over the Time Lord's face and she watches, amused, as he tugs at his ear and tries to fight it off.

"Well, if that's -- if that's what you want, sure, tea, with Jackie," he says. "Exactly what I want to do with my time in this universe. Love your mum, sounds brilliant."

She laughs. "Of course that's not what I want, you daft alien. Although, she had a few things to say to you, as well. Best take a second and imagine those, too."

The Time Lord Doctor shudders, meeting his duplicate's eye as he dips his head in confirmation. Rose imagines it as something like, _yes, it was as terrible as you're imagining. Yes, my cheek still stings when the weather gets cold_.

The looks between the two of them, though, not only now in the flat, but earlier, too, make her wonder.

Stumbling across their overgrown backyard -- he can handle the most esoteric technology Torchwood could ever hope to secure, but a simple Earth lawnmower eludes him every time -- there'd been a moment right as the TARDIS doors had opened. Her Doctor had stopped, before the flurry of noise and hands and _get in here before the neighbors wake up_ , and met the other Doctor's eye.

It was like something passing between them, a whole conversation without words.

She's familiar with that, of course, with knowing another person well enough to fill in the gaps and the blanks, to predict and hold a dialogue in the space of a brief silence.

_If you eat that, you'll get a stomach ache._

_Five more minutes and we can go._

_No, I'm not wearing knickers and the coat room is empty._

But this, between the Doctors, had seemed more somehow. Not only predicting, not only context, but _more_.

And now she wonders if they, too, have said all they need to say, and she just hasn't listened.

Couldn't listen.

She wants to confirm it, needs to make sure that whatever happens tonight, they make it about love and acceptance and peace, and not old wounds, however large the scars they'd left.

She slaps her hands to her thighs, breaking the silence, "And is there anything you two need to say to each other?"

The human Doctor tosses her a lopsided grin, like he knows exactly what she's doing. And he probably does.

There's an ongoing joke between them with her car -- how she's never sure it's locked until she clicks the remote and the horn chirps. He's explained a million times that the sound has nothing to do with actual lock, that they're separate functions and still, she listens every time. Still, she needs the noise.

The Time Lord Doctor taps his temple. "Think it's been said."

Her Doctor nods in agreement, but she wants to push it a little more, wants to know what that means. Is it telepathy, and they had _talked_?

Or being the same man, and not needing to?

She opens her mouth again, ready to plead for some clarity in the middle of murky waters, when there's a knock on the door.

The Time Lord Doctor raises his eyebrows and she can see the wheels spinning -- are they in the habit of guests at 11 at night?

"Just the pizza," her Doctor says, rising to get his wallet from its spot on the kitchen counter.

Rose had forgotten they'd even ordered it, out late babysitting Tony -- she'd called it in on the drive home. They had barely gotten through the door when they'd heard the TARDIS in the backyard.

A few minutes later and they're back in their original spots on the sofa, a cheese pizza giving off steam on the coffee table, and a pile of napkins beside it.

"Cheese? _Plain_ cheese? Really?" The two-hearted Doctor is peering at the pizza like it's going to give a very boring lecture.

"Not everything has to be bells and whistles all the time, Doctor," Rose says, and leans forward to pull a slice away and onto a napkin. The cheese is too hot, slipping and stretching, and she catches it with her fingers, piling it back on the slice. There's still a thin thread of it, curled around her knuckle and, without thought, she darts the finger to her lips, sucking it into her mouth quickly.

When she looks back up, both Doctors are staring at her.

The Time Lord Doctor clears his throat. "Right, well, of course not, bells and whistles are hardly edible. Except on --"

"-- Refurlia V," her Doctor finishes. "You should see their sporting events, Rose. The entire planet nearly rioted during the World Cup -- the official took a snack break and ate his whistle. Couldn't make a proper call the rest of the match."

They continue like this, co-telling stories, through more than half the pizza. There's a switch at some point, where it becomes Rose and the human Doctor talking about Pete's World and their experiences here. The Time Lord Doctor listens on, something like jealousy occasionally stealing across his face before he smothers it down.

It makes Rose's stomach flip, she could never stand to see the Doctor in pain, either of them, but there's a small amount of pride, too. They've made a life here, a completely brilliant life, however it began, and it _is_ something to be jealous of -- even without time and space at their disposal.

There had been nothing to drink in the house except beer and water, and as the room starts to grow warm, Rose collects the beer bottles from the table, returning with water for all of them.

Her Doctor is in the middle of a story, one of his favorites, about nicking Plondirian ink from the Torchwood vaults and convincing Jackie he'd taken Tony to get a tattoo. The ink had stayed on for days, her mum scrubbing away at Tony's forearm, as he and the Doctor giggled. The Doctor had finally given over the solvent a week later, when her mum grabbed him by the hair and announced she was cutting it in retribution.

"Had to give it up," the Doctor says. "My hair doesn't grow as fast now, couldn't take the risk."

Rose laughs. "What are you talking about? Your hair grows like a weed!"

The Doctor shrugs. "It used to be faster."

Rose is startled by this, something he'd clearly figured out, carried around with him, and never thought to share. She wonders how many other differences there are -- she knows about the big ones, of course, but it's still always a shock when she discovers the tiny things.

Six months ago, she came home to find him eating a pear and didn't know whether to laugh or cry. On the other hand, the first time he willingly put on a pair of jeans, they didn't leave the bedroom until the sun had risen. Even seeing him wear them tonight, and the striped jumper he's topped them off with, gives her a little thrill. She's fine with the differences, most of the time.

The Time Lord Doctor's thoughts must have taken a similar turn because he says, "Are there a lot of differences like that then?" He gestures to his chest, the right side, "Beyond the obvious, of course. Never been anything like this before, I'm curious."

Her Doctor shrugs again. "They sort of sneak up on you. Dental hygiene, for one. You know, you always hear how often humans need to brush their teeth, but it's another thing entirely when you're living it."

Rose leans to nudge the Time Lord Doctor, gesturing at the other. "You should smell the morning breath on this one."

The Doctor looks affronted, straightening his jumper, "Doesn't seem to stop you from kissing me, waking up all randy! What _do_ you dream about exactly?"

She grins, bypassing the dream comment because he knows full well what her dreams are about, they'd broken the headboard just last week bringing one into reality. "Yeah, anywhere but the mouth! You think I found that spot on your neck on purpose? Pure luck, that. Just avoiding the odor."

The Time Lord's eyes have gone wide, hand tugging at his ear, awkward and nervous. "Yes, well, spot on your neck, there's another for the differences column."

Her Doctor leans forward abruptly, squinting at the other one, eyes fixed on his neck. "No, no, bet you've got that. Think it's a trick of this regeneration, not the human thing."

"I wouldn't know," the Time Lord Doctor says, and he stops fidgeting with his hand, dropping it gracelessly to his lap.

Rose starts to feel like she did right before dimension cannon jumps, the pins and needles of a limb asleep simmering under every inch of her skin. It was a sign that wherever she was going, she'd never been there before, and all she could do was hope she'd land somewhere safe.

"You _still_ don't know?" her Doctor says, as he settles back into the sofa cushions, but Rose can tell the ease of the movement is forced. He's undoubtedly invested in the answer.

"No, I still don't know. How could you think -- you should know." The Doctor stumbles through the sentence, picking up words and discarding them immediately. "It's not -- there hasn't been anyone else. There _isn't_ anyone else."

It's Rose's turn to lean forward, as she shifts toward the two-hearted Doctor. "He told me about Donna, I'm sorry."

There's a moment of silence and then Rose presses on.

"But I thought you'd have found someone," she says. "Plenty of people out there that could use a good look at the stars."

He nearly winces, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck, "I've travelled with a few people, here and there, but I meant -- there hasn't been anyone I, well, I mean --"

From the other side of the sofa, her Doctor cuts in, "He means love, Rose."

Rose and the other Doctor turn toward him, heads swiveling in tandem, and then the Time Lord is stammering again.

"Yes, well, no one who might alert me to any, um, sensitive spots on my neck, at least," he says.  "So, no, I don't know about that."

The words form so quickly, tumbling from Rose's mouth before she can stop them, "Would you like to?"

There's a moment of clarity where she can hear everything in the space it takes for him to respond -- a car driving by, the kitchen clock ticking, fat drops of rain beginning to fall outside, it's all so loud.

"Would I like to what?" the Time Lord Doctor says, and the other Doctor laughs.

It's an out, if she wants it, and she meets her Doctor's eye, weighing whether to take it. He gives her a small smile, an even smaller nod, and she feels her resolve solidify. They'd talked about it, of course -- late nights and dark bedrooms, whispers of _would you ever_ with giggling confessions -- but here, in their living room, as what-ifs swim to life, she'd needed the confirmation.

"Would you like to know," and here she speaks slower, drawing out every word, "If you've got a spot on your neck that lights you up like a pinball machine?"

The Time Lord Doctor swallows, she sees the movement in his throat. "Well, what I want and what I get are usually two vastly different things."

Rose shifts, pulling up to kneel on the sofa and edge closer to him, "Not tonight. Tonight, if you want it, you can have it."

He moves toward her instinctively, his thigh pressing against her knee, before backing down.

"Doesn't it belong to someone else?" And his eyes dart across the sofa, to the human Doctor.

Rose deliberately switches pronouns, ducking down to catch his gaze. " _She_ doesn't _belong_ to anyone, Doctor."

He still looks unsure, but whether it's because he doesn't want to or because he feels he's not allowed, Rose can't tell.

But her Doctor has told her many times that the desire was never a question, it was always there, a steady current under every interaction. She just has to make him feel like he could, and like he _should_ , let it surface.

The old, or rather, _young_ , Rose Tyler dove into situations head first -- a pattern the Doctor reinforced, but this new Rose Tyler is strategic. Torchwood missions, family dinners, parallel universes, it's all about assessing the situation and overcoming it.

It's not the most romantic of seductions -- catalogue his anxieties and dismantle them -- but then, theirs was always a different sort of romance. Dates to watch her planet burn, chips, and a police box -- the courtship of a Time Lord.

"If you're worried about the Doctor," she finally says, "he'll tell you himself -- it's okay."

Her Doctor nods from the end of the sofa, addressing his duplicate. "You don't deserve it -- _her_ \-- I don't either. But she loves us anyway. And she's good, brilliant, in fact, at showing it. Let her show you."

There's the tiniest of movements from the two-hearted Doctor, a twitch of the head that could only generously be called a nod.

"I missed that -- did you say something?" She lets her tongue poke between her teeth on a grin, trying to put him at ease.

He nods again, more pronounced this time. "Yes."

"Yes you said something? Or yes you want --"

There's a chorus of her name, " _Rose_ ," the same inflection, the same voice, in stereo, and she can't help but grin again.

" _Fantastic_ …" She moves forward, bracing her hand on the Time Lord's shoulder for leverage, "…is what you're going to be saying when I'm done. Knock you back a whole regeneration, this spot."

It's a bravado she doesn't quite feel, but he seems grateful, and returns it.

"We'll see about that, Rose Tyler. No human hormones weighting my dice," he says, and cuts a smirk toward her Doctor.

"Oh, we'll get to your dice, too. Don't you worry." And then she's moving closer, fingers sweeping into the hair at the base of his neck. It's soft here, no product like on top, and shorter than she's used to, but she finds purchase all the same, angling his head gently away to reveal his neck. She sweeps her thumb over the spot first, feeling the twin pulses rabbiting under the skin.

She moves slowly then, nudging against his ear with her nose. He smells almost the same as what she's used to, just a hint of spice, but there's something missing -- her Doctor smells a little bit sweet, too -- sweat and salt and warm human skin.

"Ready?" Her voice is quiet, and she can feel the heat of her breath where it glances off his skin. He's slumped toward her, shoulders drooping, and they tense as she moves her lips to his neck.

There's an absence of taste, nothing she can describe, it's like a glass of water, and she opens her mouth to get more of it, lips moving against his skin. A few inches away she feels the motion of his Adam's apple bobbing, starkly apparent as he holds the rest of himself rigid. She tilts her head, repositioning her lips, nipping lightly at the skin before smoothing her tongue over it. His head drops further to the side at that, forcing her fingers deeper into his hair as she bears some of the weight.

She ties it all together then, kissing, sucking, licking, biting, and for a moment there's only the wet sounds of mouth against skin, and then finally, _finally_ , he moans. A quiet thing, muffled by the way he's got his jaw clamped shut, but it's there, and she wants to hear it again.

Moving her lips slowly, she kisses away from his pulse up to the corner of his jaw, and then his earlobe. She runs her tongue lightly along the edge of it and then back to the pressure point behind it as he shudders, hand jerking up to clutch at her waist. His fingers fist into the cotton of blouse as she traces her tongue back to his jaw, pressing one final, wet kiss to to the underside before pulling away.

It's not worth pretending that she's unaffected, her entire body feels flushed, something fizzing and warm slipping through her veins, and she's panting lightly. Tilting his head with her hand, she moves to catch his eye. His eyelids are sagging, jaw finally slack, and she gives him a tentative smile.

"Well?"

He loosens his fingers from her shirt, and the fabric sticks to his skin lightly as he pulls his hand away, dropping his gaze to watch as he smooths his hand over his thigh.

"Well, we --" and he clears his throat, straightening in his seat as she shifts back to her own. "-- we can move that one to the similarities column." He ducks his head, a small grin on his lips as he looks up at her. It's endearing, the way he seems almost shy to have enjoyed it.

The same voice, but from across the sofa this time, "I'll say, you don't look half stupid over there. Rose, you can tell me, I look sexier, don't I? None of this cough syrup smile and droopy eyes. Seriously, pull yourself together, mate. You look drunk."

The Time Lord Doctor straightens immediately, eyes suddenly clear and focused on his duplicate. "The TARDIS."

Rose answers at the same time as the human Doctor, "What?"

"The TARDIS," he says again. "I'll bet you the TARDIS you look every bit as daft, when she does that to you."

The agreement comes immediately, head moving in an exaggerated nod. "You're on, and you're going to lose. Plenty of practice, we've done this three times already today. I'll barely even blink."

Rose raises her eyebrows -- three times? -- and he waves her off. "Come here, Rose, let's win ourselves my ship."

There's a tiny, hopeful part of her that imagines they will -- that they'll get the TARDIS and set off on adventures, but she forces it down. Not only will her Doctor undoubtedly make the same face, but the TARDIS is all the other Doctor has. They've got each other.

Although, without the TARDIS, he'd have to stay with them -- no. _No_.

She scoots down the sofa, mirroring her former position with the other Doctor.

"Ready?" she says again, and the cheeky grin she gets in response makes her stomach flip just the same.

"Wait, wait," the two-hearted Doctor cuts in, standing and sitting back down on the edge of the coffee table, his legs nearly brushing his duplicate's where he sits on the sofa. "I needed to move closer. No going easy on him, I'll be watching for --" he waves his hand in front of his mouth,"-- tongue and things."

Rose salutes. "No mercy," and she ducks her head to the Doctor's neck, mimicking her earlier pattern, lips, mouth, tongue, teeth, all the same path, all the same responses. When she finally pulls back, she has to laugh, it's an identical expression, right down to one eyelid drooping just a bit lower than the other.

Her Doctor startles at the sound and takes in the both of them grinning at him. "What? No, no, oh, come on," he scrubs at his face with his hand before glaring at Rose. "You couldn't have eased up just a  _little_?"

She shakes her head in mock seriousness as she shifts to drop her legs back down to the floor. "Had to be done."

They're all sitting so closely now, knees bumping, and when her Doctor speaks again, his voice is noticeably lower.

"All right," he says. "Double or nothing."

The other Doctor tilts his head, pretending to consider, "I'm listening."

"I bet I can make Rose look more like that," he shoves a finger in the Time Lord's face, waggling it in a circle, "than you can."

The Time Lord laughs. "How is that double? You don't have a TARDIS to offer." He seems to regret the words as soon as they've left his mouth, but her Doctor pushes by it.

"No, but I've got a freezer full of banana ice lollies, out in the garage. I'll drag it into the TARDIS myself, if you win."

It's insane, and hardly a comparison to the TARDIS, but it seems like an understanding has been reached, Rose can feel it, it's what they all want -- have always wanted -- and her Doctor's just come up with a convenient excuse.

"You're on," the two-hearted Doctor says. "Rose, you in?"

She forces herself to pause, to not admit how much the idea intrigues her, the man she loves, the _men_ she loves, trying to best each other at turning her on.

"Sure, why not?"

Her Doctor nods, "Brilliant, now, this is my home -- our home -- and I know the polite thing to do is to let the guest go first, but I think we all know how rude I am. So, step aside, and I'll show you how it's done."

There's another look between the Doctors, but Rose doesn't need a map for this one -- he really is showing him how it's done, evening up the playing field, as it were.

"Shall we say 30 seconds?" the human Doctor asks, and she and the other Doctor agree. The Doctor who's done this before shifts into position, making a show of shaking out his neck muscles, his hands. "And -- go."

Before Rose can catch up, her Doctor has cupped her face, swooping his head so his lips can meet hers. Without preamble, his mouth opens, nipping lightly at her bottom lip as she opens underneath him. He slows the pace, tongue snaking out to slide alongside hers, and she's not clear on the rules, whether she's meant to participate, but it's reflex to wind her arms around his neck, fingers twining into his hair.

Without breaking the kiss, the Doctor leans forward, forcing her to recline into the sofa, as he moves a hand from her face to lightly scratch down her neck. She tilts into the movement, pulling her mouth from his. He replaces his fingers with his lips then, dropping his hand to undo a button on her shirt before continuing to kiss along her throat, nudging fabric aside with his nose before sucking lightly at the join of her shoulder and neck.

She arches up at the feeling, as he begins to assert more pressure. He meets the movement at her breast, palming her firmly, before he slides his thumb across her nipple and she sucks in a breath through her teeth. One hand still in his hair, she keeps him pressed to the spot, as her other hand scrambles for purchase on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscles there.  She shifts to move back, wanting to pull him down on top of her more fully, and he's just leaning toward her when a voice breaks them apart.

"Time!" The other Doctor's voice sounds strained, the words forced out, and when she looks at him, his pupils are wide, his cheeks pink.

The human Doctor shifts off of her, his erection brushing her thigh, and he takes a moment to adjust himself in his jeans before speaking, "I think that went pretty well. Certainly better than you'll do, at least."

Rose's brain is still cloudy with arousal, and really, it's the one going last with the advantage, because she's plenty wound up now. Unless they reconvene in an hour, the human Doctor has set the Time Lord off with a considerable head start. And that, too, is a thrill, that it's _her_ they're trying to affect, _her_ they're trying to seduce. If she woke up now, it would most certainly be a randy morning.

She moves to sit up, shaking her head briefly in an effort to regain some control.

"My turn," the two-hearted Doctor says, rising from the coffee table and reaching out a hand to Rose. She takes it and he tugs her up, pulling her away from the furniture. The human Doctor watches from the sofa, legs splayed wide as he sprawls across the cushions.

"Thought I'd try something different," the Doctor standing with her says. His voice is low, but his duplicate still hears.

"Nothing _too_ different," the other Doctor cuts in. "No --" and he touches his hand to his temple.

"I won't even need it." He meets Rose's eye with a small smile. "Had a lot of time to think about this, you know. This," he brushes his fingers across her forehead, down the side, "Doesn't even factor in until, oh, the fiftieth time, sixtieth, maybe."

Her heart gives a flip at that, the sort of admission she never thought she'd get from this Doctor. She tries to respond, but the words clog in her throat. She wants to tell him she'd thought about it, too, and that human or not, it's more amazing than she can she possibly imagine, already. Instead, she settles for resting a hand over his second heart.

"Ready?" he says, and she shakes her head, quickly unbuttoning his suit jacket. It seems vital, suddenly, that she be able to feel him properly. If this is all she'll ever have, she wants one less thing between them.

He looks at her, amused, as she pushes the material from his shoulders and tugs it down his arms. When it drops to the floor, she bends to pick it up, folding it lengthwise and tossing it toward an end of the sofa. It lands near the Doctor and he waves a finger at it, muttering, "Should make you give me that, too."

Now standing in front of her in just his shirt and tie, the Time Lord Doctor tries again, "Ready?" This time she nods.

He winks at her, quickly, and it's almost enough to make her knees buckle, but then he's there, his hands on her waist, and his head lowers toward her.

His mouth working against hers gently, he keeps the touch light, kissing her top lip and then her bottom lip as he tilts his head for a better angle. She keeps with his pace, returning the movements, only opening her mouth when he does. He lets his tongue join in slowly, a few brief glances against her lips before she sweeps her own tongue out to meet his. His hands slide down from her waist to settle on her hips, and he tightens his grip as he begins to walk her backward, sliding his tongue into her mouth as she allows him to guide her.

Her back meets the wall next to the bookcase, and then he's everywhere, pressed up against her from head to toe. There's the feel of muscle and bone beneath cotton, and she moves her hands to cup his face as he arches his hips into her. She knows what he looks like under his trousers, duplicates to the human eye, but she wants to touch, to experience, and as he laps at her tongue with his own, she skates a hand down his back, landing on his arse.

Tugging him further into her makes her gasp, and she pulls her mouth from his. He moves it immediately to her neck, to that same spot between her shoulder and neck, the one his duplicate had exposed earlier. Now though, the mouth is cool, a contrast to her heated skin, and she whimpers at the feeling.

He works his hands between them, undoing the rest of the buttons on her shirt, and he whines when his fingers meet the material of her camisole instead of the skin of her stomach.

"Serves you right, all those layers," she mumbles, plucking at his Oxford, and the t-shirt underneath. She can feel his grin against her neck, and then his hands snake under the camisole, smoothing up to her waist.

There's the rustle of movement from the sofa and she tenses in anticipation of time being called. When it doesn't come, she opens her eyes to see the human Doctor standing next to his duplicate. The Time Lord pulls back from her neck to glance at the other man, but he doesn't remove his hands from under her camisole.

Another look passes between them and then she hears the echoed growl of identical voices.

"It's a draw."

The human Doctor kisses her, as the other goes back to her neck, a flurry of hands tugging her blouse down her arms.

It's nearly overwhelming, trying to parse whose fingers are edging the tops of her breasts, whose leg is slipping between hers. There are clues, textures and temperatures, but it's distracting, and she jerks her mind back, forcing herself to concentrate on the feelings, not who's creating them.

More shifting, and they're off the wall now, shuffling toward the hallway, toward their bedroom. It's too hectic, three sets of legs, and she needs to understand what's happening, needs to make sure they do, so she pulls back, and stops walking.

She watches them, and there's that duplicate look again, heavy lidded, and half drunk, and so fucking sexy that she almost gives it up.

"That," she looks at the Time Lord Doctor, his wet mouth and dark gaze, "down there, is our bedroom. Is that where you want to go?"

He nods, slowly, eyes never leaving Rose's.

"And is that where you want to go?" This time she says it to the human Doctor and he, too, nods, keeping focused on Rose.

"I want to, too," she says, with more courage than she feels, "But you have to know -- you have to realize -- you'll be in there together. Is that going to be all right, as well?"

They both glance to the side, at each other, in unison once more, and really, there's a point where that might be weird, but she hasn't reached it yet. "Yes."

Joy bubbles up in her chest, that they're going to do this, this thing she could never have planned, never have hoped for, regardless of whatever silly discussions had been had in this universe.

"Fantastic!" She shouts, and scrambles down the hall, tugging her camisole up over her head and darting through the bedroom door. She pitches the cloth aside with one hand, turns the light on with the other, and has just enough time to jump on the edge of the bed as the Doctors join her.

Four separate eyes stare at her breasts, the slight bounce of them as she shimmies further up the bed, and she thinks, briefly, that she should feel self-conscious, but there's no room for it. Instead, she feels powerful, and sexy, completely in command.

She laughs, delighted by it all, and points a separate index finger at both of them, "This is a topless bed."

Her Doctor grins, grabbing his jumper and t-shirt and stripping it off in one go, before bounding onto the bed and swooping down to kiss her. She's struck by an impulse though, something she's always wanted to do, and she pulls back after only a few seconds.

"Wait, wait, wait," she says, leaping from the bed and crossing to where the Time Lord still stands, unbuttoning his cuffs with an incredulous look on his face. She knows the feeling, can't believe they're here, _he's_ here, and she leans up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

When she drops back down, she brings her hands to his tie, unknotting it slowly. She makes a show of it, tongue between her teeth for the Time Lord, and a little arse wiggle for his duplicate on the bed. When it's loose, she slips it from the collar, dropping it deliberately to the floor before moving on to the buttons of his shirt. This is quicker work, only hampered by the pair of hands that have risen to play with her breasts, fingers dancing lightly around the nipples. It's distracting and amazing, and he's drawing circles now, coiling the spring in her abdomen tighter and tighter and tighter.

He shrugs out of the button-down when she's finally done, crossing his arms to grab the bottom of his t-shirt and tug that up and over his head, too. It seems silly to get this far and not finish the job, so as his arms raise, she moves to the clasp of his trousers. She slides it free with the very tips of her fingers, avoiding where he's straining against the material. He makes a low sound in his throat, stilling her hands and thrusting up. With a smirk, she gives in, cupping him fully before carefully lowering his zip.

Pausing her progress, he leans over to shed his trainers and socks, and then waves a hand in the air for her to proceed, topping it off a bob of his eyebrows. She leaves his boxer briefs on, a dark grey pair that she's nearly certain her human Doctor owns, too. When she turns to look at him, he's shucked his jeans, down to just his pants. His are red, and at least for the moment, she'll be able to tell them apart. He's got a hand on the fabric overtop of his erection, palm rubbing circles almost absent-mindedly, except for the way he's staring at her.

There are hands at her waist now, fingers skirting along the top of her jeans, and she feels the pressure release as they undo the button and lower the zip. It's one of her tighter pairs, and she reaches down to help, moving her legs to shimmy out of the denim. The Doctor snags her knickers at the last second, tugging them down to meet the pool of fabric at her feet, before helping her step out of it. She'd shed her shoes when they came back into the house earlier, and this last movement leaves her completely bare before them.

Again, she's only uncertain about the absence of uncertainty. Shouldn't she feel embarrassed or anxious? There are nerves, sure, but they're the good kind, the can't-wait-to-see-where-this-goes kind. Like stepping out of the TARDIS -- or a zeppelin, more recently -- and into an adventure.

"Looks like he could use some help over there," the Time Lord Doctor says quietly, stooping low so she feels the flutter of his breath on her skin. He nods to his duplicate on the bed. The small circles he'd been making with his palm have stopped, instead his hands rest at his sides where he's propped against the pillows.

It feels like a time for daring, or a time for dares, and she smiles at the human Doctor before turning to raise her eyebrows at the one beside her. "So help him."

She's expecting a protest, or at least a funny look, but instead he shrugs, and gives her a smirk, before sauntering over to kneel next to the other Doctor on the bed. The effect of the two of them, one in profile, the other on his back, is completely devastating. She can't decide where to look. All that skin, long limbs and angles, _really_ great hair. And, of course, lower, to the proof that it's not only her wrapped up in all this. She wants to be wrapped up even further.

There's a sexier way to get across the room, she's sure -- the Doctor had done it a few moments ago -- but she's impatient, walking to the bed in a few fast strides and kneeling on the foot of the mattress.

"He's going to help you," Rose says, eyes fixed on the human Doctor. "And I'm going to watch."

She holds her breath as he nods in response, and then the Time Lord Doctor lays a hand flat on the abdomen of the other.

"Bet I could give you that half-stupid look, too," he says, and Rose wonders if it's for her benefit, the speaking out loud. Either way, she's incredibly grateful, she'll write her thank you note in the morning, have a fruit basket shipped out to the TARDIS.

For a moment it's quiet again, and the rain outside echoes through the room, the muffled patter as it hits the window. Then, so slowly she imagines she can hear the scratch of nails on skin, the Time Lord Doctor curls his hand into the skin of the other, dragging his fingers through the hair below his belly button. He edges under the elastic of the other man's pants and Rose tries to track the motions underneath the fabric. The second he gets a grip though, her eyes flicker up to the human Doctor's face, the way his mouth drops open and a soft breath escapes on a sound.

"Look, you're halfway there," the Time Lord says, moving his hand languidly, up and down, up and down. The rhythm is hypnotic and Rose matches it, rubbing her thighs together to try and gather some friction. "Just need those droopy eyelids." She watches as he swipes his thumb across the head of the other man's cock, where a small damp spot has appeared on the fabric. "Ah, there they are."

The human Doctor lets out a groan, the noise forming around a word.

"Wanker," he says, and the Time Lord grins.

"Seems so," and he tightens his hand.

She decides then that she needs more, more for them, more for her, more more more, and _now_. Crawling up the bed, she straddles her Doctor's legs, dropping her weight and shifting forward until she meets his erection, and his duplicate's hand.

"Do it again," she says, and the Time Lord leans to kiss her as he complies. He twists his hand, shifting his fist so that his knuckles are brushing against Rose, right where she wants them, if not the fabric of her Doctor's pants. She pulls back from the kiss, and rises more fully onto her knees, "Lift up," she says, and taps the hip of the Doctor underneath her. He does, arching into her with a wicked look in his eye. She sighs at the feeling, nearly willing to be deterred, to let it happen like this, through his pants, riding him and his duplicate's fist, until she comes. It probably wouldn't take long.

Instead she moves her hands in front of her, working the fabric over his erection and the hand that covers it. She shoves the material down until it's through the bracket of her thighs, and then reaches behind herself to finish the job, drawing his pants to his ankles and enjoying the flutter kick he gives to get them off.

Her eyes are fixed on where the Doctors are joined, the way one is holding the other, a looser fist now, and it suddenly seems ungrateful to not have them both naked. She drags her eyes away, to where the Time Lord is still encased in his boxer briefs. Hooking her index finger under the waistband, she gives it a little snap. "Yours, too."

He moves off the bed, letting go of his duplicate and yanking his pants off, before resuming his former position, right down to the placement of his knuckles. There now, everyone on equal footing.

The Time Lord starts up his rhythm again, dragging his knuckles wetly against Rose, as she squirms and shifts. He draws her toward him with his free hand, fingers tangling in her hair as he meets her in a sloppy kiss. He pulls back after a moment, meeting her eye and lowering his hand to find one of hers. When he does, he moves it to his own erection, curling her fingers into a fist around it and working her into the rhythm he's using on the other.

The Doctor beneath her groans at the sight, eyes riveted to where Rose's hand is slowly pumping a cock that isn't his own, but looks identical. He raises a hand to toy with one of Rose's breast, the movement is clumsy, he's distracted, but there's muscle memory, and his fingers coast with it, remembering how she likes to be touched.

Slick skin and needy noises, and this isn't going to be enough, it's amazing, fantastic, completely fucking brilliant, and she could stay here, hanging on this ledge for years if she'd already come once, but the tension is spiraling so tightly, it's starting to become uncomfortable. She either needs to release it, or let it ratchet back down, away from all the -- _stimuli_. She'd definitely prefer the former.

She moves swiftly, batting the Time Lord's hand from his duplicate, and shuffling forward to position herself over the human Doctor. She releases the Time Lord to steady herself, and her eyes dart between them before drifting shut as she sinks down slowly.

"Gonna need a minute," the Doctor beneath her grits out, and she doesn't miss the self-satisfied smirk on the other's face.

"Only gonna _be_ a minute," she says, and rockets into a frantic rhythm, setting the pace that will get her there quickest. The Doctor groans beneath her, and she hears the Time Lord at his side, "Hold out," he tells him.

She forces her eyes open, sees the challenging look he's got on his face. The human Doctor lets out another noise as she continues to move, sounding more pained this time, "You better fucking make it worth it then," he hisses at the Time Lord.

"Oh, I will," and he tilts his head, tongue resting on his front teeth like he's considering all the ways he could do just that. She's so close, so goddamn close, and as her eyes slip shut again, she feels pressure on her clit. It's not quite the movement she's used to, and she quickly decides that means it's the Time Lord. It's enough, somehow, that thought, and she tumbles into a shuddering orgasm that both Doctors do their best to draw out.

When she finally settles, the Doctor is still hard inside her, and she slips off of him as gently as possible, crushing down the urge to rock against him one more time. She wants to see what the Time Lord has in mind, and it wouldn't be fair to deny herself, or her Doctor, that part.

She shuffles back down until she's straddling the Doctor's thighs once more and then, to give the other Doctor more room to work, she just keeps going, until she's perched over his shins. It's uncomfortable, not a good place to rest her weight, and she shifts, spreading his legs, so she can kneel between them instead.

It's a perfect view as the Time Lord stretches his body out, resting his weight on one arm as the other lifts to place a hand back on his duplicate’s erection. He strokes a few times, pausing to realize the skin there is slicker now, from her, and he shoots her a filthy grin, eyes lighting up.

"Not how I thought I'd find out what you taste like," he tells her, "But -- when in Pete's World," and he leans forward in a flash, mouth enveloping his duplicate’s cock. The human Doctor shouts, arching up before flopping backing into the pillows.

If she'd thought the view was good before, it's nothing compared to now, where she can see her Doctor, eyes shut, head moving wildly, and the other Doctor, mouth working just as restlessly on _him_. He's brought his hand up, too, gripping the base through the circle of his fingers, tight friction on every stroke.

She can't even imagine how that must feel, not from someone who learns what you like and learns how to do it, but from someone who _knows_ , someone with firsthand experience -- from _yourself_.

If the noises are anything to go by, he'd have trouble explaining it, stuttering through groans and directives. He's always chatty in bed, but it's harsher somehow than he is with her.

"Don't you dare fucking stop," he finally gets out, his fourth try, finally not lost to just the curse.

The Time Lord makes a noise around his cock, an argument or an agreement, Rose can't tell, but the human Doctor's hand flies to the back of the other's head, keeping him in position.

Rose can feel the edge begin to build within herself again, as the Doctor below her grows frantic for release. She reaches her arm out, running her fingernails down his side, starting at his ribs and then sharp across the ridge of his hipbone. She hears the Doctor's voice, " _Yes_ ," and a shout, then he's bucking his hips, coming, the movement growing shallow as the Time Lord swallows him down.

It's too much to process as the Doctor next to her rears his head back up, and ducks immediately back down, pressing his mouth to his duplicate's at a furious pace. She can see their tongues working together through gaps in the kiss, imagines what that must taste like, and then she's tugging at the Time Lord's hair, bringing his lips to her own.

She feels a noise low in his chest, and then the human Doctor is shifting away,  pulling his legs free as he moves to the other side of the mattress. The Time Lord grabs Rose by the biceps, shifting her into the space her Doctor has vacated in one fluid movement. She has a moment to snap her head to the side, shooting a grin to where the other Doctor lies sated, watching them from his side, head on a pillow, a loose smile playing on his lips.

Then the Time Lord is between her legs, pulling them apart so he can position himself. He glances to her face, and then lower. He nods, like he's a made a decision, and then shifts quickly further down the bed, "Just one," he says, and she can't respond because then his tongue is there, one long, slow lick, ending at her clit. "Well, two," she hears him mumble and he does it again, pausing this time to dip inside her before lapping up to her clit and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

When he moves back up, face looming over hers, his mouth is wet, teeth shining behind parted lips, and he makes a show of licking at all of it, before dragging the back of his hand across his mouth.

"Are you quite done?" The voice from the pillow beside hers is sleepy and amused.

"Hardly," the Doctor above her says, shifting and positioning himself with his hand.

He slides into her slowly and it's so, so different, and almost exactly the same. He makes a few long, slow strokes, dropping his head down to kiss her at the same pace, but he's a little too in control, and has been the whole night. She shifts her hands down to his arse, pulling him fully into her quickly and arching her hips up to meet his. She forces the pace, short, fast thrusts, and he loses hold of her mouth. She tilts her head, moving right for the spot on his neck that started all this, and sucks at the skin roughly before smoothing over it with her tongue.

She's suspended in the moment, the feel of one Doctor above her, the other to her side, pressed up against her arm, the smell of both of them, the tang of sweat on the Time Lord Doctor's skin, and she's just about to wonder if it's his when he hitches her leg, hooking his arm under her knee and driving deeper into her. It smothers every thought and he only has to do it a few more times. She can hear both of them, coaxing her, words of endearment and words of filth and _I want you to come, let me see you come_ , and she does, gasping and arching up, limbs tightening around the Doctor as she hurries to repay the favor.

"Your turn, your turn," she's panting, "Go, oh, fuck, _come,_ " and he follows on, hips pressed tight to hers as he grunts the sound of his release into her neck.

He collapses onto her, and she takes the weight, limbs still curled around him to keep his body in place. The Doctor to her side moves closer, throwing a leg out to tangle with theirs as he slides his arm around the Time Lord's back.

Rose is overcome with feeling and the crash of adrenaline and she feels the sharp sting of tears suddenly, her body trying to find an outlet. She blinks them back, burying her face in the neck of the Doctor on top of her before gently shifting him off.

She lies, boneless and content, as the Doctors each take a turn in the restroom. When the second one returns, she slips off the bed and into the loo herself.

The sight that greets her is an unwelcome one, both Doctors dressed and sitting grimly on the foot of the bed.

"Time to go?" she asks, even though she knows the answer, can see it lurking in the mood of the room.

Both Doctors nod slowly, and she's struck with a silly impulse, darting back into the bathroom. She grabs a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, rushing back out into the room and shoving them at the Time Lord.

"To remember us by," she says, and his responding smile is so sweet that she carves off an extra piece of her heart, and gives that to him, too.

Rose dresses slowly, stealing extra moments to look at both of them. Her Doctor is showing the Time Lord around their bedroom, knick-knacks and debris, she watches both of them linger on the small packet of birth control pills on her nightstand before moving on to the photos framed on the walls and dressers.

She remembers each one, wants to tell him thank you, that they're doing great, and see? This proves it. But she holds it back. They'd talked earlier, she doesn't want to make it harder, on any of them. Wants to let this exist like it was, like it is.

When she's finally ready, her Doctor leads them back through the house and out the back door to the yard. The rain has stopped, leaving behind mud and damp, and their feet squish as they walk to the TARDIS.

They stop in front of the doors, and Rose lays a hand there, saying a proper goodbye this time.

"You can come in," the Time Lord says. "If you want."

She shakes her head and watches the human Doctor do the same.

"Might never leave," she says.

"Would that be so --"

She cuts him off. "Don't. We can't."

They've stood themselves in a triangle, and the Time Lord steps back from it, moving to unlock the TARDIS. His feet squelch as he turns and Rose looks down to see his footprints, left behind in the mud. Her Doctor notices, too, and grabs the Time Lord's arm.

"Let me see the sonic," he says, and the other Doctor reaches into his jacket, pulling it out and handing it over, nodding like they're in agreement.

"Rose," her Doctor says, "Take a step back. Carefully." She does, and he does the same, fiddling with a setting on the screwdriver. He aims it toward the ground and Rose watches as the earth seems to crystallize, preserving their footprints, all turned toward each other.

She steps gently around it, stopping the Time Lord as he opens the TARDIS doors. Tugging him down by the lapels, she kisses him slowly, and when she pulls away, drops a quick kiss to that spot on his neck, too.

There's something in her that wants the words properly this time, but he looks so sad already, she doesn't want to pull at it, and she steps back again, letting him go.

The human Doctor moves in then, hand out to return the sonic. The other man waves him off, "Keep it," and her Doctor grins, delighted, shoving it in the back pocket of his jeans. He sobers then, cupping the Time Lord's jaw as he gets close to his face, "Tell her," he murmurs, and presses a quick kiss to the other's lips, before giving him a light swat at the back of the head. " _Now_ , you dumbo."

The Time Lord nods, and turns back to her, "He's right, I should. And even if it's not my last chance to say it, even if I accidentally stumble back here three Tuesdays from now and I'm an entirely different man -- Rose Tyler, I love you."

Warmth envelops her chest, the feeling blooming out and flooding her veins as she grabs him into a hug, and mumbles against his neck, grin pressing into the skin, "Quite right, too." She pulls back, cupping his face, and echoes his words, "I love you."

He ducks down for one more kiss, and then he's stepping through the TARDIS doors. She gets a glimpse of the time rotor, the soft glow, and she's glad she saw it, glad to feel like he's got someone watching out for him.

With a soft wave, he shuts the doors, and she imagines the movements in her head, up the ramp, to the console, long fingers working, and right as she's paced it, the TARDIS vworps to life.

The remaining Doctor steps to her side, hand moving to grasp hers and parallel the memory.

As the ship fades from view this time, her eyes drop to the ground, just barely visible in the predawn light. She can see their footprints there, all three sets, and she shifts to stand back in hers as the Doctor takes his place. The other set looks lonely though, and the Doctor next to her notices, too. He darts away, back toward the house, and when he returns, he's clutching a banana ice lollie. Laying it across the empty prints, he smiles.

"He deserves it," the Doctor says, and Rose couldn't agree more.

* * *


End file.
